


The Kingless Magi

by Shahnaz



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Sinbad no Bouken spoilers, adventures of sinbad spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-03-26 13:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3852580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shahnaz/pseuds/Shahnaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people are destined to change the world, in one universe - it's directly by their own hands, in another world, they have to take a more supporting role. </p><p>A King in one World, a Magi in this World, but the heart that longs for a peaceful world is the same. How differently can one man influence the world if he can only do so indirectly?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Draco

Out of everyone that entered, Sinbad hated to admit it – but there’s something about Drakon that catches his attention. If the young man wasn’t such a stick in the mud, and wasn’t so beholden to Parthevia’s idiotic policies – he might have potential as a king. 

He ran to catch up with the green-haired youth – instinctively throwing up a Borg to repel an ambush – the sound of the dragon hitting the barrier instantly caused the general to double back and impale the beast before it could recover from shock. 

“You should be more careful,” He chided as he put a boot on the beast’s head, yanking the blade out. 

“You shouldn’t be leaving people behind.” Sinbad snorted irritably as he clutches his staff. “Besides, you’re going the wrong way.”

“What do you mean by that?” He turned, staring at the commoner. Normally he’d dismissed the idea out of hand, but Sinbad’s strange magic had saved his life more times than he cared to admit and he seems to have an uncanny sense of direction in this confusing place.

“I can feel that what we’re looking for is to the east. But there’s also something nasty in the way,” he pointed. 

And sure enough, the Magician was right on both counts, there was a massive golden door with some kind of lock – and a massive dragon that callously ate the – strange to say given what they’ve seen – tiny ones that flew too close.

“Disgusting, to use his subjects like that.” Sinbad growled rather pointedly, and Dragul could feel those golden eyes boring into him. 

“You take care of it, and I’ll get the door unlocked. You are just an Expatriate.”

“Hey! No way am I allowing that! And what did I say about calling me that? I thought you were better than that!”

“I wasn’t-” The commander deflates at the intensity of Sinbad’s glare. “Fine, only because you’re too weak to handle it yourself.” He hated to admit it, but the other man had a point. His own men were slaughtered so quickly because they were thrown in just to increase the odds of conquering the dungeon, so few of them were actually trained; it was like giving children swords and expecting them not to hurt themselves. And here he was just going to throw yet another person into the fray with full knowledge they could die. “Fine. You stay here, I’ll go-.” 

“Asshole.” Sinbad mutters under his breath as he hopped onto his staff, and started to hover. “So what’s the plan?”

“What- I thought you weren’t interested in fighting with me.”

“I’ll fight with you, I’m not fighting for you. So tell me, if you’re a Commander, show me how you lead.” He rested his chin on his hands. _Are you a King?_ was the real question.

The nobleman glanced over, looking for signs of another trick, but found an eager, anticipating look on the commoner’s face. “You fly in first and distract-” He held a hand up, silencing the start of a protest. “I’m not just going to run to the door. You are very good at pissing people off, and I trust you actually know how to dodge in mid-air.” 

He continued at the sharp nod, rolling his eyes at the cheeky grin on Sinbad’s face. “While you get the King Dragon’s attention, I will go in and strike at it from below, and then you use that magic on it from above.” Drakon crouched on the fallen column, unsheathing a sword, and the Magi started rising up.  
The King Dragon snorted – lunging to snap at another dragon out of the air. “Now!” 

Sinbad was off like an arrow, the long hair flying behind him like a whip, and Dragul darted after, shield raised overhead, blade out. The commander couldn’t see what’s going on, but judging from the pitched screeches and the exhilarated laughter, it seems the magic-wielding boy was leading the smaller dragons off on a merry chase. 

“ _Ramz!_ ” And a bright flash caught the corner of his eyes, followed by inhuman screams and the smell of burnt flesh in his nostrils.  
The general sprang forward, slamming the heavy shield against the beast’s flank, his sword raised – plunging into the thick hide, angling it between the scales – nearly getting blown back by the deafening roar. Reluctantly, he tossed the shield aside to get full leverage to pull the weapon out before the beast could turn and snap him up in a gulp.

“Hey! You’re supposed to pay attention to me!” Sinbad snaps from above as he kicks off his staff, catching it in hand as he hovers. “ _Ramz Rasas!_ ” Sparks flew from the curved head, flitting off like fireflies around the young man, growing larger and larger in size – crackling as they reached the size of lemons and suddenly they streaked downwards like meteorites – aimed not at the beast, but a rock formation close by. The monster’s head snapping back away from Drakon to the other boy, letting out a bone-rattling hiss as it got up to its feet, fangs bared as it charged after him.

The rocks suddenly exploded right in its face, releasing a geyser of steaming water, blinding it. 

Drakon slid under the rising form to thrust his blade up – a task much harder then he thought – the belly was softer, but not that soft, but he could feel it give, and sticky globs of ichor pouring from the jagged wound he made. The Dragon King stops, screaming as its entire form shuddering. 

For a moment he froze, terrified that it would suddenly drop, crushing him to death – but military training took over and he starts rolling – at about the same instant that Sinbad realized where the commander had disappeared off to.

“Move! Move! Move!”

And not a moment too soon, about as soon as the young man got cleared, the beast collapsed, the force was enough to send him bouncing a full yard upwards and away. He groaned hard as he landed, glad the padding under his banded armor absorbed most of the shock, but he had no doubts that his entire torso would be dark and purple within a few hours’ time. His gold eyes widened as he could see the monster wasn’t dead, though it was still struggling, seemingly unable to find its feet. Where was his sword…?

Sinbad landed in front of him, panting heavily - and the commander noticed that his arms were bloodied - probably from when one of the smaller beasts managed to get a hold of him. Again that humble-looking staff started to glow… and the Dragon King’s massive head slammed down – and it went completely still.

“Huh…?” The violet-haired boy straightens up, the faint light disappearing.

The Commander slowly pushes himself up, wincing faintly, clutching his side. “Is it dead?” He ask through clenched teeth. 

As if to answer that question, the body started to melt away into the air – leaving an orb, and a sword balancing on its hilt for a moment before clattering onto the ground. 

“Oh! When you rolled away, you forgot your sword!” He exclaims, somewhat disbelieving as he rushes over, collecting the items the beast left. 

“So it impaled itself when it dropped.” Drakon finished for him. “Sinbad… I’m.”

“It’s fine.” He cuts him off. “Let’s get out of here.” 

\--- 

Baal stares down at the two youths, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well it seems the choice is easy for me.”

“What do you mean by that?” Drakon questioned, looking at the dragon-like Djinn, then at Sinbad.

“I’m a Magi; I can’t be a King Candidate.” He answers, unable to suppress a slight bitterness in his voice. “Even if I wasn’t one, I’m a Magician, and a Djinn’s magic is incompatible with my own.” 

“You- You’re a Magi?!” The green-haired boy pointed in disbelief, sputtering in outrage. “This idiotic smartass is a Magi?”

Baal laughs, clutching his belly. “So he didn’t tell you before now? Magi – what do you think of this youth? Do you believe him to be a worthy King?”

Sinbad pauses, looking over at the man. “No.” Then he straights up. “Not at first, I thought he was an arrogant, calloused coward, who would throw the lives of his men just to survive.”

“You…”

“But no. He’s still arrogant, but the last thing you can call him is a coward. He actually cares for his men, but was raised in a toxic culture with the belief that dying in battle is glorious – the look on his face when he lost his men showed regret, sorrow, guilt – and determination not to let it happen again I believe he’s starting to see that asking others to die for something is no way to do things. And I can tell there’s something he wants to fight – fight and _live_ for.”

“Sinbad…” Drakon murmurs softly.

“So yes. I can call him a King, I wouldn’t call him _My_ King. Not yet anyways.” He straightens up. “Drakon – you’re about to be given a great power, do not waste it!” He taps the crude staff against the floor. 

“Agreeing that he’s a king without declaring him yours – you really are a strange one.” Baal just shook his head. “Come Forth.” He gestured to the young commander. “As the Djinn of Wrath and Heroes, I, Baal will recognize you as my king, and my power shall be yours to command.” With that, he touched the sheathed scimitar at his hip. In a flash of brilliant golden light, the giant disappeared, and for a moment, Drakon felt the weapon grow warm as an eight-pointed star appeared on its hilt.

Then suddenly a white circle appears on the floor. “What-?”

“That’s the exit,” Sinbad declared - the information just suddenly popping into his head as he started pocketing handfuls of jewelry and gold on his person. “And you didn’t just earn the Djinn; everything in this chamber is yours.”

“But you-”Drakon gestured to his bulging pouches.

“Call it a fee for saving your ass.” Came that now familiar cheeky grin.

“You uncouth idiot!”

“You better hurry; the exit isn’t going to stay open forever. And if you are truly worthy of being a King, you’ll need the coin to back your will up.” Sinbad gestures, and with a shrug, he helped the young man gather up priceless treasure until both their limbs protest before slumping onto them, feeling the ‘floor’ rising below them.

“Sinbad.”

“Yes?” Sinbad opened an eye as he folded his arms under his head.

“I still don’t like you.” Drakon muttered. 

“Same.” 

“But… Thank you.”

“Eh?”

“You’re right; I would’ve died in this place if it weren’t for you.” Drakon closed his eyes, the unbidden image of Serendine just waiting, not knowing popped into his head. He subconsciously touched his earring, deep in thought. “And you got me to think about what it means to lead someone.”

“So what will you do now?” The Magi questioned. “You now have the ability to create a country, even change the world.”

“I’m going home.”

“What.” The tone was flat – immediately causing the King Candidate to sit up straight.

“You heard me. I am going back to the Royal Palace, and resume my position.”

“Holy – You’re so damn stupid!” Sinbad started, slamming his hands against the sack with every syllable. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” He stops, taking in several, deep rapid breaths. “You’re wasting it! Parthevia’s ways are wrong, can’t you see it? You can do so much better, but you’re just happy serving someone else?” 

“Sinbad, that’s enough.” Drakon rebuked. “Did you really think, after getting to know me that I would just abandon my homeland on your say so?” His eyes narrowed. “Unlike you, I don’t think Parthevia is a lost cause.” 

“But-”

“I’m going back, report that the mission is a success. I’ll speak to the Imperial family.” And my brother. “I’ll try to make it better.”

“Ugh!” Sinbad buries his face in his hands, groaning. “I really hope you’re right. For your sake.”

And that was the last thing they heard as they were suddenly flung up into the air – everything going white.


	2. Aquila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sinbad finds himself in yet another dungeon with someone who could be king, but when Drakon reappears with three assassins and a shadowy woman, he realizes that things are more serious then he anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOC: parts of Imuchakk arc that is skimmed over is assumed to happen more or less like canon. After this chapter, things will really diverge from canon.
> 
> Also picture Hinahoho in giant, fluffy Valefor equip for five seconds.

Hina was much nicer then Drakon ever was, a gentle soul in that giant frame – but his lack of self-confidence wasn’t good, if he got surer of himself…. He stops, feeling as though some kind of dead, slimy, cold _thing_ just wrapped itself around his spine and prickled at his nerves. Sinbad couldn’t help but tremble at this feeling of wrongness – feeling it even before the first black flutter moved into the corner of his eyes. 

“ _Ramz!_ ” He cries out, sending a bolt right at a pale, elongated arm lunging at him – taking to the air as it writhes from the sudden shock, then it withdrew. 

“Sinbad?” Hinahoho called out as he held his spear up, searching the crystalline cavern. “You look pale, do you feel something?”

“Yea – be careful, I don’t think it’s something that belongs in this world.” The Magi continues to hover, and his eyes widened as two figures came out from the shadows. A veiled woman with sleepy-looking eyes, and…

Drakon. 

“You again.” Drakon scowled, pointing his naked blade at the Magi, his eyes briefly darting at the Imuchakk man, feeling a twinge of something as Sinbad moved close enough to the giant to throw a Borg over the both of them. 

He could screw around and pretend not to know the guy, and Sinbad was sure his response would be priceless, but the strange woman was the source of this vile air, what was he doing with her? Surely he could _feel_ the wrongness even if he couldn’t see the stained Rukh surrounding her. “Drakon. Stay away from that woman. She’s dangerous.”

“So you’re the new Magi,” She murmurs, giving the violet-haired youth a look over, giving him an impression he was visually being dissected even if her sleepy eyes never changed. “You caused quite a stir with your actions.” A biting moth lands on her staff – and in an instant it froze solid, shattering as it hits the ground. 

Before either one could say more – a flash of steel whistled through the air so quickly that Sinbad couldn’t even think to call up his borg as a coil of wire wraps around his torso, squeezing his arms against his side. “Ugh!” 

Hina sprang back as the mountain of a man charges at him, barely dodging the stone-shattering punch. “Sinbad!”

“I’m – ow – I’m okay! Just give me a second!” The Magi calls out as he tries to rise to counteract that Ja’far is trying to throw him to floor – especially as Vittel’s hands shot up, grabbing at his feet. _”RAMZ!”_ He shouted once more, directing the magic at himself this time – forcing out two screams as the two assassins were shocked on contact. 

Another arc of lightning raced through the air – striking the young man in the back, catching Sinbad off guard, momentarily plummeting as every muscle in his body seized up. Hinahoho gasped as he lifted a foot – kicking Mahad in the stomach to push himself away, catching the falling youth by the back of his shirt and raced towards the surface of the lake.

Sinbad groans low as he glances back, seeing Drakon’s sword arm was covered in teal-colored scales, the blade crackling with lightning. He already learned…? The thought went through his mind before he heard the Imuchak’s warning to take and hold his breath before they both plunged into the icy depths as the magician launched spears of ice right at them - freezing the surface solid.

\---

“No. You already have a vessel.” Sinbad stated sharply as he pulls the man back with the crook of his staff. “And I’m not letting you have more power if you’ll just simply waste it – especially if you’re working for someone like her.” His eyes darted to where she had been until Valefor destroyed her. The three assassins and the giant turned towards the two at what sounded like the start of a heated argument.  


“I’m not taking orders from you, Sinbad.” The commander growled low, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword. He really did have no desire for another vessel; it wasn’t what he was here for anyways. “Stay out of my way!” 

“I would have to agree with the magi,” The Djinn cuts him off as he twirled his paw above the ground. “Few men need multiple vessels,” and he recognized Baal’s signature, there was one ‘roommate’ he didn’t need. “You sit out, now you four.” He turns to the others as a black, inky creature appears – like a cross between a fox and a cat. “Whoever can catch this-” He starts with a wolfish grin as an hourglass turns. “Before the sands run out will win the honor of being my king.” 

The protests and confusion filled the chambers before they realized the little decoy had already went into hiding. 

“So why are you here Drakon?” Sinbad questioned as he watched the four dart around like headless chickens – and at one point Valefor barked at Ja’far to not try to kill the thing. 

“You.” He answers shortly as he folded his arms cross his chest, eyes narrowing at what looked like a fool’s errand.

“Eh? You’d think they’d be happy to get rid of a troublemaker.” 

“You committed High Treason. They are not going to let that go unpunished, or else it will show that the government is weak.” He leaned against the wall, if he were to wager – Vittel’s weird arms would give him the advantage over the impatient Ja’far, or the two larger, slower men. But he suspected that they’ll be empty-handed when the sand runs out. 

“Maybe I did the right thing if Parthevia is fine with using children as assassins or working with someone with such a malicious air like that woman.” 

“I do not care for it either, but running away will not change things!” He snapped. “It was forced onto me, and I felt it was better I keep an eye on them rather than let them work unsupervised.” A long sigh escaped his lips. “Children should not be killing people.”

“You’re right,” Sinbad’s face softens. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“I am not sure – but Sham Lash – if I had the power, I would disband it - no destroy it, and rescue what children I could. But I just do not have that power.” He glared at the ground, hands curling into fists. 

“But you do – you’re not just some officer, you’re a wielder of a metal vessel, someone with a King’s potential.” He sighs quietly before leaning closer to him as if to emphasis his point. “I’m not sure what everyone has been telling you or the kind of person you’re taking orders from, but you’re better than them. After all, they never saw the things you did, gone through not one, but two dungeons and come back alive, you tried to save your men – that’s a hell lot more than the fat lot of the other generals do.” He folds his arms over his chest, a grin appearing on his lips. “And you figured out how to cast lightning magic without me having to invoke Baal to show you how - clever.” 

Drakon stared at him, his mouth opening to say something, then closing it as he looks away, cursing himself – wishing he hadn’t let the Magi goad him into a conversation. “It is expected that I would not amount to much, I am the youngest child, and inferior to my-”

“No one.” Sinbad talked over him. “Now you know that’s you’re capable of something good, something great – let’s see what you’ll do about it. I still don’t believe Parthevia will change, but if there’s someone like you in charge – maybe I’ll change my mind on that.”

A minute of silence passed, as the green-haired boy tried to shut away all that’s said, so it wouldn’t interfere with his mission. “And what did you mean by the ‘wrongness’ of Falan?” Drakon questioned, remembering something from earlier, trying to change the subject.

“…You can’t feel it?” His eyes widen slightly. “I know you can’t see them, but the feeling is… I guess only a magician could tell. Her rukh is wrong, it’s black and cold, and doesn’t feel like it belongs in this world.” 

“Black rukh?”

“That’s right. Especially given how Valefor responded to her, I wouldn’t trust whoever she associated herself with.” The violet-haired youth glances to the side when he noticed a blur of black, and saw that the decoy had tucked itself to a small crevice in the wall. Once the blue-haired giant got close, lifted his head, trying to subtly catch is attention, eyes darting in the direction of the tiny creature.

Good – he knows a hint, he thought as Hinahoho followed up on it, and he stuck his tongue out when Drakon glared at him. 

“You’re not supposed to help!” The Djinn shouted accusingly at the Magi as the Imuchak man held up the prize. “But I suppose rules are rules, and-…” He trails off, the annoyed look turning to horror as first Mahad drops, then Vittel – the pair wheezing and making wet, choking noises.

“What,” Ja’far staggers as purplish ooze started to pour out of his tear ducts and mouth. “No! I don’t – I don’t-!” the child screams as Sinbad flew over – pausing in mid-air as the three seem to explode into black rukh, their bodies becoming distorted and merging into something black, big, and malevolent. 

“How the-?!”

“Falan! She gave them something earlier; that must’ve caused it!” Drakon snarled as he starts to touch his weapon as the creature turns to them. Before either one could fully comprehend what it was they were facing, it swiped at them – only hitting air as Hinahoho rushes in, holding each one under his arm. 

“What is that?” The man kneels, letting the two Parthevians return to their feet. 

“Ngh - I don’t know! But those three, they’re still in there!” Sinbad held out his staff.

“Think we can save them?” Drakon questioned, earning a surprised look from the other boy. “After last time, I’m not leaving anyone behind if I can help it.”  
“Yeah, but I need some help – I got a feeling it can easily crack my borg if I take a direct hit from it.” 

“I’ll keep it distracted then,” the giant gripped his harpoon. “You seem to know them best Drakon – maybe you can reach them when Sinbad does what – what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try to get in touch with their Rukh – I’ll let you know when I do!” With that, he starts rising in the air. 

“Let’s go then.” Drakon nods as unsheathes his blade, lightning crackling over the length as scales started to spread on his arm.  
\---

It was strange watching how different Ja’far acted once he woke up – he was still sharp-tongued and quick to threaten people, but there was no malice behind those words, and he started to defer more to Drakon, he even apologized to Sinbad for trying to kill him. Mahad was still quiet, but he didn’t carry the same intensity as before – and Vittel was practically a different person, all smiles and words, seemingly incapable of shutting up.

While the village was initially wary about letting Drakon and his subordinates stay, they didn’t resist when Dungeon Conqueror Hinahoho and Sinbad vouched for them. Sinbad grinned to himself as he leans back, biting into a strip of jerky as he watched his large friend speaking with his fiancée, glad to see he finally got the girl of his dreams. After all, what stronger warrior is there then a dungeon conqueror, how can Rurumu's father turn him down? 

“I heard you’re planning to leave,” The green-haired youth murmured, leaving his plate untouched. The magi nodded in confirmation. “We’re going to head back in the morning, I feel like we have imposed on these people long enough, and I need to report to my superiors.” He seems to hesitate for a moment, his eyes glancing away for a moment. “Sinbad. We need to talk in private. Please come to our ship in the morning.”

There was something about the way he said it that should’ve raised alarm bells, the hesitation so uncharacteristic of the prideful noble, and the insistence of meeting on a ship. But after everything they’ve gone through, he knows the young man is a good person. “Of course!” With that, he turned his attention back to the chief, trying to wheedle him into considering opening up trade to foreigners, insisting that isolation would serve a nation poorly in the times ahead.

Drakon winced silently as he forces himself to drink the milky, slightly sour brew that passes for alcohol in this place.  
\---

Dawn as it turned out in this land of ice was a few hours away. Sinbad lighted himself on the ship’s railings, his hands tucked behind his back – holding his staff in place as he searched the deck for a flash of bronze armor or a flick of the red cape. It was a short span of time, but it was enough to make him curious about what the other youth wanted to tell him. A love confession? He thought to himself, then immediately dismissed the idea as absurd, perhaps it’s a request to do something that a man who is still with Parthevia cannot do. 

The creak of wood causes him to perk up as the young commander walked out, leaving the door open. There was heaviness in his body language, as though a great weight was straddled on his shoulders. He blinked, as if surprised to see Sinbad had actually come. A pouch dangled from his dominant hand as he starts to close the distance between them. 

“Hey. So what’s going on? You look troubled,” The magi remarked as he skips off the railings, and lands in front of the other boy. 

“It’s.” Drakon lets out a shaky breath, fogging up the air in front of him. He had to do this, he had to – he told himself. “This might be the last time we see each other.” He blurted out – his eyes widening in horror when he realized what he said.

“What do you-” His brows started to knit - then there was a blur and a sharp sensation his brain barely registered as pain when everything suddenly went dark.

The commander winced, dropping the weighed sack as Sinbad’s baffled expression turned into pain as he crumples before him. His heart leaped to his throat as he instantly kneels, pressing his fingers against the magi’s throat, worried he had hit too hard. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when he felt the pulse under his skin. “I’m sorry.” He whispered as he gingerly slung the unconscious boy over his shoulders, trying to ignore the shallow breaths against his neck and the way his eyes were starting to sting – damn the arctic wind. “I had orders to capture you alive.”


	3. Andromeda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The commander returned triumphant to Parthevia, but it was a hollow victory as he starts to see the true nature of his brother's ambitions, meanwhile Sinbad awoke to found him betrayed and bound within the darkness.

There was a haze his lungs as his eyes slid open, being met only with the tiny orange motes of distant candlelight and complete darkness. His head was throbbing something fierce, stomach gnawing at his spine, and his limbs just felt so heavy - and started to prickled as he tried to move them, the magi had no idea where he was, or for that matter how long he was out – though it was at least a day by the way his stomach’s hurting, but probably more.  


Sinbad hisses softly – the last thing he recalled was Drakon’s weird comment about not seeing him again, then look on his face. 

Guilt. 

His eyes widened as it all came together – the other boy lured him on board to capture him, with that realization he started to scramble up, but found his body too sluggish to cooperate, the smoky air too soporific. The ground was too still – so he couldn’t be on a ship. Was he in Parthevia again? He wondered – it was likely, if Drakon was the one that took him. Once he’s freed, he’s going to teach him a lesson about abusing this trust! Sinbad swore to himself but stops when a faint shuffling sound penetrated the still darkness.

“Hello?” He tentatively called out, the shuffling stopped; someone in sandals? He thought for a moment as the sound resumes, moving closer to him, until they came close enough for him to see the vague outline of a figure in heavy robes. “Where am I?” The young man asked, but received no response from the stranger. 

A gasp fell from his mouth as he noticed a weird light around the figure – it was blacker then the inky darkness of his room, yet it was glowing intensely, a paradox that could only be seen by the eyes of the magically gifted, it was beautiful but repulsive and cold like a viper dancing to hypnotize a mouse. The little birds of depravity soundlessly sing of sorrow and envy around the body they live in – who seemed to keep staring at the Magi, taking in a deep breath as if to speak.

But instead, he … or was it she? Kneeled next to him, revealing he had a bowl of something. Before he could figure out what it was, he found his head lifted, a thumb pressing against his lips to force them to part, and the bowl’s contents – a shockingly bitter gruel made of some kind of grain with formless meat overcooked to easily-chewed blandness mixed in, which he allowed himself to swallow, seeing no point in resisting when he had so little to go on and a stomach that’s demanding food. The stranger said nothing the entire time, and didn’t even seem to be looking in his direction. 

“Don’t feel like talking, or are you unable to?” The magi asked once the bowl was drawn away from his lips. They didn’t seem to hear the question as they shuffled away from him. “Hey! At least tell me why I’m being held prisoner!” He calls out after them as he tries to force himself to crawl over the weirdly grooved floor, but was unable to make it more than five feet when he lost track of the person.

And he found himself alone again; though he can’t felt but feel he’s being observed in the blackness of the chamber.  
\---

Dragul’s demeanor had changed since he returned from the land of giants. He had always been a reserved young man, who hid a general shyness behind aristocratic etiquette and military discipline – but he was even more withdrawn now, avoiding eye contract with everyone and the intensely morose air that hung around him was enough that the palace servants instinctively avoided him and he in turned excused himself from anything where his presence wasn’t required. 

The three assassins he brought with him were his only company, released under his command after a great deal of negotiating with Sham Lash to allow the release of their men – though the figured gave Ja’far an ominous warning about straying too far from the organization.

Of course the boy still refused to speak to him and thus wouldn’t explain what they meant. And Vittel was evasive enough that he suspected it wasn’t just death that they would expect if they were to ever fully break away from the group. 

“Commander Dragul,” A voice calls out, causing the young man and the silent giant Mahad to turn around as one of Serendine’s ladies-in-waiting ran up to them, bowing her head. 

“Sahel – what is it?” He asked, brows knitting in confusion, startled by the fact someone actually went to talk to him in the weeks of his return.  
“Please forgive me for speaking ill,” She gathers herself to her full height, though she didn’t look in his eyes. He didn’t need to hear anymore to realize it was about Barbarossa. “However, I fear something terrible is going to happen.”

“Not here.” He lowers his voice – loathed as he was to hear terrible things of his own flesh and blood, but ever since he confessed to him that he was only interested in the Princess for imperial power, he can’t help but feel ill when he thinks about what ambitions his older brother may have, especially with the last order he received – and the magician his brother was associating with. “If this is as grave as I think, we need to be where we can’t be overheard.”  


Mahad nodded in agreement, the man tilting his masked chin to the side, indicating where he thought it was safer to talk. The man never spoke a word the entire time he was with the commander, but once freed from the dark rukh – he discovered that he was a man with a knack for noticing things that others overlooked. 

It seems Sahel caught on quick, as she already started to head towards the inner courtyard, letting the commander and ex-assassin follow. Once settled into the far courtyard, she started to speak.

“General Barbarossa has been acting strange since you returned with the Magi. He’s been acting as if he was already the Prince-Consort to her Highness, especially after the Emperor became ill.” Sahel held her sleeves up, eyes gazing at the ground. “The other day soldiers came into her bedchambers and started to tear everything up! They claimed it was his orders.”

“What?” His eyes narrowed, a hot flash of anger started illuminating his cheeks. “He did what?! How dare – what was he after?” 

“We don’t know, but I fear for her life,” The woman’s eyes started to water. “He is your brother but-”

Dragul places his hands on her shoulders. “He is not to be trusted. I knew he did not love her, but I was too much of a coward to say anything.” The commander let out a low, regretful sigh. “Since my return from Valefor’s dungeon, I realized I made too many mistakes, did not speak up when I should.”  
“Sir Dragul…?” 

“Listen. Princess Serendine needs your support now more than ever, and – I know this sounds mad, but if we are both right about what my brother is attempting, we need to be ready to smuggle her out of Parthevia and out of his hands.”

“How? You know as well as I that she takes her duty seriously, she won’t leave without a fight.” Sahel shook her head sadly, shoulders slumping as her hands fell to her waist. “And what are we to do while waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“You will protect her,” The young man started, and glances over as the giant of a man half-kneels, bowing his head. “As will Mahad."

The man nodded in confirmation. Given his silence, many at the palace assumed he was mute, and a small handful also believed since he did not speak, it meant he could not hear as well, allowing to hear things that otherwise would've been kept secret. 

"I need to correct another grave mistake I made.” Dragul continued, breathing out. “I need to rescue someone, he might help us – but he might not, but no matter – I can’t leave him imprisoned.” 

“The Magi? I thought he didn’t like you.” She questioned, figuring out who he met without a second’s thought. 

“He does not like the army, or the war.” Dragul corrected, as he caught a white shadow from the corner of his eyes – seeing that the former assassin was still keeping vigil despite everything that happened. Ja’far still hasn’t spoken a word to him since Sinbad was turned over to the magicians in Barbarossa’s employ, and he felt the only reason the boy hadn’t slit his throat on the spot was due to Vittel’s interference – and Mahad physically holding onto his chief until he was too exhausted to move. “Sinbad trusted me – and I betrayed it for the favor of an ambitious scoundrel!” 

No one was happy with the decision, least of all himself – he remembered the moment he laid the violet-haired boy in the carriage that his self-loathing at his betrayal became too much and he attacked one of the veiled magicians – only to hit empty robes. Then he was caught off-guard by the driver with a blast of fire to his back – watching helplessly as the door was slammed in his face and they rolled away – the footman yelling out he’s fortunate enough he was too important to die for his foolishness – leaving him with nothing to show for his efforts but a severe burn and a strange doll that Ja’far smashed into the ground in a fit of rage.

She started to speak as if to say something, then she closed her mouth, thinking better about her words before she started again. "Dragul. Do what you need to, but please - go see her, she needs you. No matter what you feel about yourself, she still cares for you like a little brother, and I think you're the only one that can bring her comfort now." 

"Of course," He sighs - he hadn't presented himself to her, feeling himself unworthy, but it seemed his attempts to punish himself only seemed to hurt others. "We should go before someone notices our absence." He straightens up as he catches himself. 

With a silent nod, the lady-in-waiting bows and slips away to return to her lady's chamber. The two men waited until she disappeared out of sight to depart, to reduce the chance of someone loyal to his brother noticing that they were meeting together.

\---

“Ja’far. I need your help.” He called out in the gloom of his bedroom, he couldn’t sense him being here, but that’s just simply the mark of a good assassin. Dragul wasn’t sure if the fair boy was keeping watch, or been silently waiting for the chance to kill him. 

No answer, not that he expected one. 

“Sinbad’s still alive, he has to be – they wanted him alive for a reason.” The commander started, and almost swore he heard a faint rustle. “Do you think you can find out where they are holding him?” 

“What for?” 

He blinked – startled at the sound of the ex-assassin’s voice. “To apol-no, to get him out. I owe him that much.” 

“Finally, you fucking rat-bastard!” The sneer on the boy’s face was unmistakable as he hung upside down over the edge of the canopy. “I was wondering when you would stop sulking and start doing something!”

“So can you?” He looked up at him, his gaze even – trying to ignore the unsavory language coming out of the tiny mouth, it really wasn’t the time to get after him for his poor etiquette.

“If he’s alive, I’ll find him.” The petite figure leaped onto the desk in front of the window, the sharp blades gleaming in the moonlight, the greenish-gray eyes seemed especially dark – the Parthevian had no illusions of what Ja’far might do to whoever was holding Sinbad captive. “Now what are you going to do?”

“Find out what they want with him – stop that, and use all my power to cover his escape and delay pursuit.” The answer seems to satisfy the white-haired boy and he slips out the window like a pale shadow.  
\---

It was impossible to tell what time it was in this nearly lightless room, and more so as he slowly realized the reason it was so difficult to conjure up magic was that his veiled prisoners are mixing some kind of drug into the food, a dosage that kept him somewhat awake but made it hard to keep his thoughts from drifting. They had tried to mix it into his water, but the bitter taste had instantly alerted him to something was wrong and he refused it – even going as far as to spit into their faces when they tried to force it down his throat that they stopped attempting to drug his drink. 

And now that he connected the bitterness to the lethargic feeling that’s been seeping into his bones, they discovered him to be equally uncooperative with eating – though they had more success in forcing him to eat. 

If he was right and the gruels came twice a day – he was here for two weeks since he first woke up. And none of the veiled people said a word to him or to each other, the only sounds they emitted was the shuffling of their sandals. And even if he wanted to talk with them – he couldn’t, after the second day, one of them did break their silence for a moment, a low whistle that reverberated in his own throat with such intensity that Sinbad was forced to exhale – and after that, he was unable to form any kind of words – just gasps, groans and the ragged sound of his own breathing, as if something thick lodged itself into his vocal chords. 

The quiet was maddening, Sinbad didn’t care about these people, but the silence filled him with a nervous dread, putting him on edge for something to happen and that something never seem to come, letting his mind try to come up with the answer to ‘what next?’, which given the presence of the cold, dark rukh and his current predicament and each scenario his mind came up ends up being more horrifying then the last. 

Sinbad pulls his knees to his bare chest. They didn’t physically restrain him too heavily – just a pair of manacles attached to a five-length of chain welded to the floor, but the drugs they kept putting in him made it difficult to summon the energy to really test how far he could move within those limits, so it became part of his routine to force himself to move, shifting his body in various positions, fearing that he would lose the use of something if he stay still for far too long. Once again he tried to force words out – he could feel the spell put on him starting to weaken, but it was still strong enough that the only thing he could manage was a low wheezing. 

If he keeps watching his captors move – he could figure out where they’re coming from, and when – he’ll just have to figure out how to keep from getting drugged just for a few hours.

As he slowly stretches – his ears perked up, for a moment he thought he heard something, his eyes darting around trying to find the source of the noise – before letting out a disappointed noise. His ears must be playing tricks on him, making up noise to try to stop this silence. 

\---

“Drakon.” Ja’far called out from the darkened room, causing the commander to rouse from his sleep. He blinks blearily, as he tries to adjust his eyes to darkness as he slowly sits up. The youth could hear the shuffling of sheets from the next room; the ex-assassin’s subordinates are no doubt getting up to join them.

“Dragul,” He corrected automatically, though half-heartedly, annoyed at how the magi made that nickname stick for everyone – and that he actually kind of missed hearing his obnoxious voice. “What is it? Did you find him? Is he all right?” He found himself leaning forward as Ja’far climbs from the window sill.  
“Yeah, they’re in some kind of old temple in the northwest,” The child answers, nodding to Vittel and Mahad as they squeezed into the bedroom. “Even with someone of my skills, it wasn’t easy sneaking in – lots of guards and magicians hanging around the place – but I think I found where he’s being held, but I couldn’t get any further. But overheard the fuckers saying they’re trying to make him break.”

“Break?” Vittel asked, eyes widening, as Mahad’s eyes narrowed darkly. “What would they want for so badly that they’d do that?” 

Ja’far spits. “Don’t care, but we’re not gonna let it happen.” His green eyes turned to the noble, as if daring him to say otherwise.

“Of course we won’t. How many people were there, and what are we dealing with exactly?” He started as he walked towards a desk, yanking out a piece of parchment, and practically ripping a quill out of its inkwell, offering it to the small ex-assassin. 

“About… couple hundred or more by my estimate? It’s really fucking hard to tell – there’s definitely a couple of bunker rooms for about fifty or so, but I counted way more heads that I could tell, but so many of them wear veils and robes I couldn’t keep track.” He explained as Vittel lit a candle, giving him enough light to start sketching out the outline of the temple. 

“There was this sealed up well here.” He tapped the pen near the southwestern corner. “It had some holes in it – could fit a hand through, but there’s no way to crack it open without drawing too much attention.” He looked over at Mahad. “You’re not very subtle, you know.” A scowl crosses his features. “I tried looking in, but it was way too dark, and had to hide, but I think that Sinbad’s down there – didn’t get any response when I tried to call out to him. There had to be a way inside deeper in that complex, but I couldn’t get in – too many masked creeps.”

“And they’re all Magicians – even with your power, we can’t possibly fight them all off, can we?” Vittel looked to their king candidate, biting his lower lip nervously. It still astounds the young man that this worrywart was the same person as the cocky assassin he first went to Imuchakk with – a testament perhaps to how much they were forced to hide their true selves while under Sham Lash’s control. 

“Not by ourselves – but if we can get help…” Dragul leans forward, his brows knitting as an idea started to spark into life. This could work, he thought as his eyes turned to the window, towards the palace. But the question was, given all that happened; would they even listen to him? “I have a plan. Vittel, given Ja’far’s description, you’re probably the only one who can reach Sinbad if he is down there. I want you to stay here and keep watch on him, let him know that -” He stops, tearing off a blank section from the crude map, and hastily wrote something down. “- that help’s coming. Ja’far, Mahad – get ready to travel, we’re taking Her Highness with us to Imuchakk.”  
\---

His father’s cane! Sinbad gasped as he jerks on the chains, glaring at the man before him – he was masked but not veiled, his stringy ashen hair falling over his shoulders and was looking down on him with an imperious expression.

“Such a pathetic thing, isn’t it?” The man commented – the first person to actually utter a word since he was thrown into this hellhole. The words just seemed so loud to his ears, and the sneering tone was almost like a slap to his face. “It’s unworthy of a Magi, even one born to the worthless dregs of society.” 

Chains rattled as the young magi tried to shout at him, but again only a weak noise fell from his lips, the sound magic still holding fast to his voice. He couldn’t see the man’s face, but he’s almost certain the bastard was smirking as he bared his teeth. 

“Don’t look at me like that, what I say is true – they have no value. They’re nothing, five, ten years – no one would remember their names, they live, they die – but they created nothing, ruled nothing, left nothing, and are nothing. The only noteworthy thing they did was to give birth to you, Magi.” A loud crack suddenly filled the air as lightning sparks from the fallen magician’s fingers – dark lines forming across the pale beech wood of the walking stick, the smell of ozone and burnt wood filling the air. 

“And eventually, even you would forget about them.” He added nonchalantly as he lets the cane drop – the weakened wood shattering upon impact. “A magi has no need for things that are worthless.”

Sinbad lunges at him as the cane drops, amber eyes narrowing – he never – he never wanted to kill someone so badly before now. To talk about his parents like that! The bastard knew nothing! He’ll kill him! He’ll kill him! He snarls, tears springing at the corner of his eyes as he slams against the floor with a muffled groan, pushing beyond the limits of the chains, the manacles starting to dig into his ankles and wrists.

“There’s murder in your eyes, boy.” A sick smirk appears on his lips. “You want me dead, I can tell – you’re probably even figuring out what’s the best spell to use if you could ever get free.” He shrugs as he watches the young man try to grasp onto the broken stick, the very tips of his fingers just brushing against it – so close, yet so far. “Is it one to make me shut up fast, or are you going to make me suffer for every syllable I said?”

The Magi couldn’t reach him, so he chose to spit at his feet to show what he thought of the magician. If the white rukh could get through all the black rukh, if he could speak, if he could only..!

“So defiant! It’s your fate to suffer here, boy. Why don’t you just surrender and accept it?” He calls out as he turns, laughing mockingly. “You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t your destiny to be here. After all, isn’t that the nature of the Magi, to accept their lot?” 

Sinbad groans as he watches the figure disappear into the darkness, silently cursing after him as his own rukh fluttered around him, spinning like maddened beasts at his rage. There has to be a way, some way – it can’t be like this! He slams his fist against the ground – which only made the broken staff roll away. A sorcerer of creation – a magi! - Can’t be imprisoned like this – silenced and chained and alone…. He had no one left. 

His parents are dead, Hinahoho and Piprika are hundreds of miles away and Drakon… how could he? How could he? Sinbad sniffles. The violet-haired youth had sworn to make him pay for betraying him, but he’ll forgive him if he had stood before him, just so he could see someone that actually had a face and talk to him like an actual human being! He just can’t – he can’t keep existing like this! Every breath just came out in wracking, animal-like sobs as he thrashes against the chains, lungs burning from the sheer effort of trying to get air in for all the sounds that’s forced out of him.

A shriek suddenly tries to force its way out of his lips as it seemed like his heart tries to tear itself in two as he could watches a few white birds shudder and started to turn grey – then black, his shattered heart slowly sinking. 

No! No! He struggled as if trying to pull away from the sight would make it disappear as tears flowed freely, stinging his eyes. No! Someone help me! He found himself trying to cry out. I don’t want this, please – stop! Don’t let me fall…

A brush against his shoulder was barely noticed; for at some point he had fallen asleep from the sheer effort of crying. The taps became harder until it became a punch, causing the Magi to jolt in place and into the waking world. His listless amber eyes stared at… a hand? when he turned, mouth hanging open in shock.

The pale hand waved at the wrist of an impossible long arm before unfurling completely, dropping what looked like a crumpled piece of paper before snaking back up. Quickly the magi scramble to pick it up, trying to unfold it as quickly as possible without tearing – there was a message, written in a strong, steady hand. All it said was:

“Hold on, we’re getting help.”

With those words, the raging tempest of his rukh seemed to quell, the blackening slowing, and for the first time in what seemed like months – he smiled.


End file.
